Never Back Down
by ovolamp
Summary: ON HIATUS. Alex was tired, so tired that the only way he could get away from it was to end it. But that plan backfired, and now the teenaged spy is under the supervision of a new Guardian. Someone who has been where he is now, in a dark place, and survived.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - **This story is my stress/nerve reliever for the year! I told myself I wouldn't start one this year because of my course load at school, but writing it has been very therapeutic this weekend and I intend to continue it. Regular updates may not happen, but I will try my hardest!

Anyway, please R&R, tell me what you'd like to see happen, give constructive criticism... it is helpful xD

Also, is there a willing Beta out there? I keep switching my tenses xP

**I hope this doesn't confuse you**,** but when Snake interacts with Cub I will refer to each of them by their Codename's. When Alex is alone, I will refer to him as Alex. That is all.**

**Summary;** Alex was tired, so tired that the only way he could get away from it was to end it. But that plan backfired, and now the teenaged spy under the supervision of a new Guardian. Someone who has been where he is now, in a dark place, a place that will either swallow you whole, or send you back stronger than before.

**Never Back Down**  
Chapter One

* * *

Snake wasn't a stranger to the dark world of depression.

But these marks, the ones so carefully carved into Cub's skinny wrists, left a bad taste in his mouth. It twisted his heart to see the effect his world had on the child. So young and already so full of despair, Snake had been twenty two when his life had spiraled downward and it had taken three years for the man to break out of it.

Cub was only fifteen.

The pad of his index finger delicately traced an angry red cut that had yet to fully heal. It was perfectly straight and fairly deep, Cub shuddered as Snake applied a bit of pressure to the wound. There was obviously still a bit of soreness there, it would disappear in a few days, but the scar would stick around for years to come.

Snake released the stress he'd been applying and moved to inspect the rest of the damage. Halfway through rolling up Cub's sleeve, the teenaged spy decided that he'd had enough and pulled away sharply. The SAS operative instantly let go.

Cub yanked his sleeve back down and held his arm protectively against his chest. There was an odd edge in his otherwise blank expression that clearly warned Snake to back off. This wasn't the first time Cub had reacted as such, there had been several instances over the four days they'd been under the same roof where in, Snake had tried to assess the various injuries and Cub had let him – to a point.

Each day Cub would draw a line and each day Snake chose not to cross it.

He worked within the kid's comfort zone – stopped when asked, never pushed too far. It was only when Cub felt he could turn to Snake for help that the man could truly offer it. Trust had to be built, and for that to happen, Snake had to prove that he was trustworthy – which meant he had to remain within Cub's boundaries.

"The first aid kit is in the bathroom cabinet," Snake scratched the side of his nose absently, "try to clean and dress those before they become infected – okay Cub?"

He didn't get a response from the boy at all, not even a brief glance. Instead, Cub gazed pointedly over Snake's shoulder at the clock on the wall. It was a not-so-subtle hint that the soldier decided not to take any notice of. With a scowl aimed at his troublesome ward, Snake leant forward and brusquely snapped his fingers.

Cub twitched at the loud noise. Faint annoyance flickered in his expression as he unwillingly centered his attention on Snake – who was studying him with a frown.

"Do I need to do it for you?" Snake cocked an eyebrow in question.

"No."

It was short, cold and left no room for argument.

It was also the first words he'd spoken all afternoon.

"Alright," the Scotsman conceded easily, happy for the small victory. "Bathroom's that way," he pointed towards it, "if you need anything, just shout."

Snake moved out of the way of the door so that Cub could head through without a problem. But even so, Cub still put as much distance between them as he could.

* * *

Alex was tired.

It wasn't the type of exhaustion sleep deprivation caused, either. This was bone deep, a fatigue that originated from his very core. It wasn't something a few sleeping pills could fix, unless, of course, he went and swallowed the entire bottle.

If Alex Rider ceased to exist, would the weariness leave too?

Jack hadn't understood. Alex had confided in her, told her about the tiredness. She considered him her brother, so naturally she'd tried to lend a hand. A couple of sedatives and a sweet goodnight kiss on the cheek was all it took in her eyes. Later, when Jack had found him drowning in his own vomit, she was heartbroken.

They'd stuck it out through thick and thin. Jack had always been there by his side. But she hadn't been enough for him, even though they both wished she had been. Five weeks after the incident, Jack had left. She said that he needed to heal and that she wasn't the one who could help him do it. Alex needed someone who understood, who had seen the horrors of his job and lived through the depression.

Before she had disappeared, though, Jack had proven her love once more.

She'd found Snake.

There had been a lot of people involved in the search for his new guardian. Most notably, there was Ben, who had sent Jack in the direction of his old Unit member.

Somehow, the quirky American had railroaded MI6 and gotten them to appoint the soldier as his legal custodian. Ben vaguely mentioned that Smither's may have had a hand in that debate – Alex couldn't be sure. He'd been distracted during that conversation, trying to figure out why Snake was so bloody important.

Why did his guardian have to be _that_ man? That same man who had brought utter hell down on him at the military camp – the one that had nearly broken him.

It turned out Snake had something that Alex needed very much.

He'd survived the dark place – he _understood_ what it could drive its victim's to do.

* * *

Snake watched Cub walk down the hallway without making a noise. It was eerie how a teenager could be so stealthy. With a family the size of his, Snake knew quite a few kids, and a majority of them were incredibly boisterous and rowdy. But then, none of those children had been employed by MI6 at fourteen years old.

Still, it was a highly disconcerting trait Cub had. Snake had almost upended a fry pan full of bacon that morning when the boy had slipped into the kitchen, as silent as a mouse. He was not used to having someone in the house that had abilities on par with his own. Cub's sudden appearance had nearly given him a stroke and a couple of third degree burns – although the kid had seemed amused.

The sound of rusty hinges moaning as Cub opened the bathroom cabinet echoed throughout the flat. Plastic clattered onto tiles and there was a muffled curse, followed by what Snake could only assume was a foot kicking his poor first aid kit.

There was a smash, and Snake envisioned his supplies strewn all across the floor.

Upon inspection, that was exactly what he found.

Cub crossed his arms over his chest and pinned Snake with a fierce look. The lid of the kit had separated itself from the box and its contents had flown out in every direction. Snake raked a hand through his hair as he surveyed the mess. Overall, those materials had cost him one hundred and fifty pounds all together.

Which was a lot of money – but Snake only ever bought the best of the best.

"You right?" Cub didn't need to answer, Snake had already deduced as much from his attitude. But the curt nod the teen offered was a definite improvement, it was forced but it was also unprovoked – Cub had responded on his own accord.

With a sigh, Snake knelt down and began the tedious task of tidying up. He didn't ask for any help as he started on the broken bottle of Betadine, nor did he receive any – at first. After a minute or so, Cub dropped onto his knees and poked around for several seconds. Stiffly, the boy reached out and snatched a few cotton swabs from the ground and placed them in the overturned medical kit.

Steadily the two worked. By the time they met in the middle, Snake had a sizable pile of debris on one side while Cub had a neat mound on the other. After plucking the last syringe, Snake shifted into a crouch and waited for Cub to follow suit. There was still some salvageable equipment, and Cub had to tend his wrists.

Carefully, the soldier extracted two cotton balls and a roll of bandages. Inside his bathroom cupboard was a spare vial of antiseptic, and as soon as he retrieved that, he turned back to Cub – who had started to roll up the sleeves of his jacket.

When Snake made to hand the stuff over to the kid, Cub extended both his arms.

The soldier immediately got the unspoken message and tentatively took a hold of one of the proffered limbs. Cub was tense, Snake could feel it. He quickly corrected himself and switched to lightly supporting Cub's arm instead of outright gripping it. Cub settled a little bit after that, but he was still as cautious as before.

Snake noted the boy was reluctant to look him in the eye and couldn't do it for more than a few seconds at best. He had kept his gaze trained on Cub's face throughout the entire ordeal and Cub had known it. After Snake had dabbed at an almost healed scab and accidently caused it to crack open, which had made the sting of the antiseptic more vicious against the fresh wound – Cub avoided Snake.

Not in the literal sense. Cub remained where he was. But he hid himself with his eyes, evaded all the man's attempts to make direct eye contact. In the end, Snake stopped trying and focused on his task at hand. There were more cuts than he had anticipated; they littered nearly every inch of the teenaged spy's pale skin.

Even as the white bandages covered them, Snake couldn't get the image out of his head. There had to be over a hundred slices and those were just the ones he was allowed to see. From personal experience, Snake knew that self harmers didn't stick to one place on their body. Chances were Cub had been cutting somewhere else, his legs, his stomach, his chest, and hell, maybe even his feet.

Knowing a search would be heavily protested against, and end up being forced, Snake chose the only other option he believed he had. Once he'd finished dressing the wounds, he stood and bodily lifted the kid onto his feet. Then, without warning, his hand snaked out and caught Cub's chin before he could react.

"Cub," Snake allowed a hint of authority to seep into his voice as he made the boy look at him, "you're not to cut anymore, not in this house – you understand?"

To make himself clear, he squeezed Cub's arm until he winced.

He waited, and then added, rather calmly, "Trust me, kid, you don't want me to catch you doing it again. I won't do anything, because that's not how I work. But, I will call someone who sure as hell will, and that isn't something you want, is it?"

Cub, much too aware of whom that _someone_ would be, frantically shook his head.

Wolf tended to have that effect on people.

And after their last encounter, Snake could bet that Cub didn't want to be within a thousand mile radius of the temperamental Hispanic soldier. The blow Wolf had dealt probably still smarted; it really did appear painful. Snake rubbed the bruise that stood out all too clearly on Cub's cheekbone. For a second time, Cub winced.

Snake finally released the boy's chin and ruffled his hair, throwing it into complete disarray. Cub eyed him mutinously through blonde bangs, wariness transformed into irritation at the action. Jack had used to do the exact same thing.

He missed Jack; although, she would probably have threatened him with something a lot worse than an antisocial and constantly pissed off SAS operative.

Snake disentangled his hand from Cub's hair and backed off. He turned away and headed for the door. He was almost out when he stopped and turned back, a sad smile playing across his mouth. Cub watched him, waiting for whatever it was Snake had obviously paused to say. Eventually the man stated, in a gentle voice;

"Take it from someone who's fallen, Cub. It's a long way down."

* * *

_Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - **Would you look at the skeleton I had in my closet! To be honest I forgot about this, then remembered, didn't know how to continue it, got busy and then got my ass into gear. I'm sorry if it isn't up to caliber, I haven't written in a while. That being said, I will continue this. The next chapter will be out next week or the week after. It'll be updated before New Year, definitely.

**Summary;** Alex was tired, so tired that the only way he could get away from it was to end it. But that plan backfired, and now the teenaged spy under the supervision of a new Guardian. Someone who has been where he is now, in a dark place, a place that will either swallow you whole, or send you back stronger than before.

**Never Back Down**

Chapter Two**  
**

* * *

Above all else, Snake was a man of tact.

This meant that while the proverbial foot had come down, the law been laid, Cub, regardless of what Snake said or did, wouldn't quit. Cutting wasn't a hobby; it wasn't a frivolous past time, or something you did for kicks. It was a lot of different shades that manifested itself in a lot of different people; each individual having their own unique flavour.

For Snake, the cause had been many things - a television that broke, a sink that always backed up, a landlord that cared too much and a girlfriend that cared too little. A job that demanded too much and a social life that steadily failed. A comrade that was in the wrong place at the wrong time and his loyal troop of ten that, stupidly, followed him in - all of which slowly compiled a long, long list of losses that he would never, ever lose track of.

In comparison, the trigger had been almost insignificant.

He had forgotten to turn on the oven.

Tea had been easy back in the day. It was always a frozen something. It took either five minutes in the microwave or thirty-five minutes in the oven. It was incredibly simplistic.

And he fucked it up. Like he fucked _everything_ up.

_Why couldn't he ever get it right?_

There was silence as the dry wall Snake had built to keep out the bad thoughts began to give. Strong, calloused hands grabbed fistfuls of blonde hair as thin cracks started to appear, one by one, lengthening until they ran into each other and formed spider webs. He squeezed his eyes shut as the distinct sound of breaking concrete grew louder and louder.

Louder still, until the wall shattered in a cacophony of chaotic images and feelings. Too many feelings, flooding his brain so fast he didn't have a hope in the world of deciphering what they meant. Darkness enveloped him, blanketing with the intention of suffocating.

He couldn't breathe.

With a cry more angered than startled, Snake flung his arm sideways, sending the clutter on his kitchen bench to the floor with several _thuds_ that varied so much it was almost musical. Whatever remained was quickly dealt with; most of it being thrown violently across the room. That was until his fingers wrapped themselves around the business end of a knife.

An exceedingly sharp, Butcher's knife.

The blade bit viciously into his hand, easily slicing through pallid skin. Snake's vicelike grip drove it deeper into his flesh, before the pain registered and his fist unfurled reflexively.

A steadily increasing cascade of blood followed the falling blade, splattering the floor.

But all that registered was the stinging throb in his right hand. That was all.

Just pain. Nothing else.

It was… _good_.

Cutting became a need for Snake – a raw need. It was a drive that couldn't be stopped, a thirst that couldn't be quenched, an itch that couldn't be scratched. It was an escape.

And that was why Cub would not, could not stop. It was _his_ means of escape, too.

Snake understood.

But it didn't make it right.

* * *

Cub was in the living room.

For the passed three hours, the boy had been sprawled across the couch, watching daytime infomercials.

Snake didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned. On one hand, at least Cub hadn't barricaded himself in the bathroom and passed the time by carving into himself. On the other, the seemingly listless state he was currently in wasn't much of an improvement.

On the television, the advertisement for the latest 'miracle' fat burner tapered off and was replaced by a new type of acne cleanser. Snake scowled as a bright young woman with skin as smooth as a baby's bottom popped up on screen, endorsing the product that she had probably never needed to use in her life.

The marketing business was based on lies, much like his own business, and Cub's.

His thoughts arrived back at the blonde teenager: Cub.

That was what he had come in here for.

Stepping closer to the couch, he leant over the back of it and tapped Cub on the shoulder as a way of getting the kid's attention, even though he knew he'd probably had it the second he stepped into the living room. "Hey, couch potato. What do you want for dinner?"

The kid's shoulders hunched with a disinterested shrug and his gaze remained on the TV.

Snake sighed and ran a hand through his hair; an action that bordered on habit. Sure, he'd been ostracized before, and hell, he'd ostracized Cub in the past, too. But under his own roof, and when he was trying to _help_ this kid no less. It struck a nerve, to be honest.

"Oi, I asked you a question." Snake clasped his hands and rested them atop the couch, slanting over the back to give the kid a rather intense look. "Answer me, please."

Again, Cub shrugged.

"With words."

"I don't care."

Lovely.

Snake hung his head despairingly. "Come on, Cub. You don't eat anything I make. Tell me what you want."

Cub's answer was to, rather rudely if Snake might add, increase the volume.

A little bit miffed, the soldier reached over and plucked the remote from the kid's hand. The images on the screen were replaced by a wall of black as Snake switched it off.

"Hey," growled Cub, who rolled over to fix Snake with a glower that looked suspiciously indignant. "I was watching that."

Snake offered a mocking grin in return. "Acne troubles, Cub?"

"Screw you."

Snake frowned, briefly meeting Cub's eyes before the teen averted his gaze. Instead of reprimanding the kid for his disrespect, Snake ignored it. "So, what did you want for tea?"

"Nothing."

"Try again, mate."

"A big, fat plate of 'your absence' would be just fine."

Pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, Snake reminded himself that _'it was you who wanted him to talk in the first place, genius.'_ He wasn't about to ruin that progress because the kid was a lot sassier than he recalled. No, he would take it in stride and deal with it in a calm, refined manner. That meant no cuffing, thumping, shouting or snapping.

With a deep breath to settle his fraying nerves, Snake refocused on his charge.

"Third times a charm," he announced, voice firm. "I'm not leaving until you tell me, Cub."

A lot of expressions flittered across Cub's face then. Most fell into categories such as annoyance, anger, frustration and other associated groups. But then something more agreeable splayed across Cub's haggard features; the stiffness and fight leaving his body.

Little did Snake know it was a memory of an empowered red-headed woman that caused it. Of her clouting Cub over the head the first time he'd ever mouthed off to her, and the knowledge that Jack wouldn't have been half as lenient as Snake in the same situation.

Cub gave, just a tiny bit. "I'm just not that hungry, alright?"

"You still should eat." Snake said, carefully, aware of the thin ice under his feet. He thought for a moment. "How about stir-fry? You can eat as much or as little as you want."

The disdainful twist of Cub's lips let him know that stir-fry _did not_ sound good. In fact, to Cub, it sounded a lot like a rolling stomach. But still, the kid answered with a solid, "Fine."

So Snake decided it was good enough.

"Do you, uh," Snake paused, knowing that what he was about to ask was a definite crossing of the boundaries. "Do you want to give me a hand cooking?"

There was a beat of entirely too awkward silence.

Cub cocked an eyebrow sardonically. "You're going to let me use a knife?"

"No. But you can go to town with the peeler."

* * *

Snake rummaged through the shelves of his fridge. Normally the inside of his fridge was sparse and whatever he found that wasn't shrunken or rotten was what he made do with. Since Cub's arrival, though, Snake had restocked. A little too much, actually, if the utterly, impenetrable wall of foodstuffs that he was currently battling with was anything to go by.

"How the hell did I get this in here?" He muttered as he wrestled a pair of carrots from the mess.

"With a lot of shoving and swearing," Cub supplied helpfully from where he was against the kitchen bench. When Snake peered over his shoulder at Cub, he noticed the peeler he'd promised the boy was being expertly twirled between his fingers. Snake turned back.

Pulling out what he needed until his arms were almost overflowing with food, Snake lightly nudged the fridge door closed with his foot. As he ambled over to the bench, almost losing a few things in the process, Cub pushed away from the counter. He silently crossed to the other side, effectively putting a barrier between them. The peeler never stopped twirling.

Snake tossed him the carrots, as though he hadn't noticed Cub's movement. The kid was odd. Sometimes Snake could be inside his personal bubble and he wouldn't flinch, other times the kid wanted distance. Maybe this time it was because Snake would have a knife.

And Cub wouldn't.

Whatever it was, Snake let it go.

Halfway through simultaneously tugging out a chopping board and tipping a plastic bag upside down to free a broccoli, Snake's phone rang. Snake made to answer it, but stopped. The phone was in the hallway. Cub was in the kitchen. A knife was on the bench.

Snake eyed the sharp weapon, considered taking it with him, and then flicked his gaze to Cub. The kid was openly watching him, the peeler frozen partway through peeling the carrot; a strip of its orange skin detached and curling. Snake gave the boy a long, hard look. Then, with one last glance at the knife, he bustled out of the kitchen. Not at all sure.

That was partly why he didn't check the Caller ID before answering. He soon regretted it.

'_Snake, mate. Look. I'm sorry, alright? It was an accident.'_

Snake pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it in angered disbelief. Angered by _whose_ voice that crackled through the speaker, disbelief at _what_ that voice had said.

"It. Was. An. Accident?" Snake ground out, still glaring holes through the phone.

While the phone was still a fair way from his ear, Snake still heard the faint, unsure _'yeah'_.

When Snake spoke next, the phone was back where it was supposed to be. "You're telling me that sending a fist hurtling into my ward's face at 35mph was an _accident_?"

'_Uh… yeah?'_

Snake snorted. "No dice, mate."

'_It… it, alright, fine, the truth is-' _

"You know who starts a sentence with the words 'the truth is'?" Snake interrupted bluntly.

For a long minute, there was silence on the other end. Then the voice asked warily, _'who?'_

"Liars."

'_Okay. I get it, alright? I'm a dickhead. I'm sorry. But I couldn't help it, man. With the knife, the blood, the look on his face - it was you, all those years ago. And nothing I said or did back then helped you. I couldn't help you and you got so fucked up. Then I saw Cub, little Cub and he is just so bloody young and all I could think about was that if I-'_

"Wolf," Snake rasped, his eyes doing a perfect rendition of dinner plates, "Wolf, I-"

'_- couldn't help you back then, there was no way I could help Cub now and it just really screwed with my head. I got pissed and took it out on Cub, which was wrong. I'm __sorry__.' _

Snake gaped; his jaw lost somewhere on the floor. That was the most he'd heard Wolf say.

In level tones. About something so _deep_. _Ever_.

Still a bit stunned, Snake finally managed to respond. "I… I forgive you."

'_Thanks.'_

Snake coughed into his free hand, trying to dispel the awkwardness their conversation left.

'_So, uh, how is Cub?'_

"Well," Snake said slowly, not really sure _how_ Cub was himself. "He hasn't cut today… that I know of. He's been talking, which is always a good thing…" Wolf gave a dismissive grunt.

Snake rolled his eyes. Wolf _normally_ wasn't a very talkative guy. It was like he had a quota of words for the day and once they were used up he just answered with grunts. That spiel of his just then had probably set him back a few months. It made sense that Wolf, as quiet as he was, didn't understand the importance of Cub speaking more than one word.

"…and he was just helping me make dinner, which I should get back to."

'_He's eating, then?'_

"Not really…"

'_Tried feeding him Macca's? Kid's always eat it.'_

"He doesn't like it."

'_How do you know?'_

Snake wanted to say that the topic had arisen during a conversation with Cub, but nearly all the conversations the two had, had been rather one-sided. He wanted to say that the kid's old Guardian had told him before Snake had brought Cub home. But the truth was;

"I tried feeding it to him on the way home from 'the bank'."

'_And he didn't eat it? Not one bite?'_

"No. He actually looked kind of sick when I gave it to him."

"_Huh. Odd.'_

"I swear, Wolf. He won't eat a damn thing I give him. It's seriously worrying me."

'_Maybe it has nothing to do with the food. Maybe it has something to do with him.'_

"It's crossed my mind."

'_You remember when my cousin had anorexia? Well…'_

* * *

By the time Snake made it back to the kitchen, he expected Cub to be gone. Part of him also expected the knife to have vanished as well. What he hadn't expected was to find Cub dividing a finished stir-fry into two bowls, one portion decidedly larger than the other.

When Cub noticed Snake leant in the doorway, arms crossed and watching with a blank expression, he stated matter-of-factly, "You were taking too long."

Snake didn't deny it. "Yeah." He nodded towards the two steaming dinners. "Smells good."

Cub dumped the frying pan he was holding into the sink, not bothering to answer.

Scratching the side of his nose, Snake looked to the fridge. "Did you want a drink?"

'_Well… one of the things the doctor recommended was oranges, or orange juice. It's supposed to stimulate the flow of digestive fluids and increase a person's appetite.'_

Cub gave his customary shrug, but Snake was already at the fridge, opening it. He pulled out a bottle of orange juice and grabbed the largest glass he could find. He filled the glass to the top and handed it to the kid, who appraised it with an exceedingly flat expression.

"Tap on the fritz?"

"Sure is," Snake answered without missing a beat, slowly squeezing passed the boy. He collected his bowl from the counter top and held Cub's out to him. The kid didn't take it.

"I'm not hungry." Cub informed him coldly, angling his body towards the door.

"You cooked all this and you're not going to eat it?"

Cub looked at him contemptuously. "You said I could eat as much or as little as I wanted."

Snake put the food down. His arm snaked out and caught Cub's wrist as the boy made to turn away. True, Snake had said that. But he hadn't meant it.

Before he could say something else, though, he felt something; something sticky, warm and wet. Snake released Cub with a frown, and looked at his hand, which was now coated.

In blood.

Face darkening; Snake slowly looked back at his ward… only to receive a face full of juice.

Startled, Snake staggered back, cursing. He swiped at his stinging eyes with his forearm, trying to get rid of the sticky substance. When he was finally able to see properly again, Cub had disappeared. Somewhere, a door slammed in his flat. It wasn't the front door.

Cub would have had to duck passed Snake to get to the front door.

The brat was smart enough to know doing that would have been a death sentence.

Pulling the sleeve of his denim jacket over his hand, Snake scrubbed at the rest of his face. He needed a minute, else wise he would strangle the kid when he went to get him.

When his breathing returned to normal and the murderous thoughts flooding his mind had tapered off, Snake set out. His footsteps were soft, his hands in his pockets, the fact that it was his own fault for leaving Cub in a position to cut, seared into his brain.

He found the one door in the apartment that was locked rather easily. What confused him was the room Cub had chosen. It was Snake's bedroom. Why was Cub in his bedroom?

Then Snake heard the telltale creak of an opening window, and it hit him.

Snake's apartment was on the sixth story; the only exit was the front door and, if you were incredibly suicidal, climbing down the drainpipe outside Snake's bedroom window.

"Oh_ shit_."

Without a second thought, Snake stepped back and promptly kicked his door down.

* * *

_Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **And thus I am back... from that place... that I went... O.O ... Since it has been a while and my original plan for this story sort of withered and died, I've started steering NBD in a slightly darker direction. To be honest I wanted to scrap this story and rewrite it as a fullblown horrorfic, but so many people have followed it that I have decided to keep writing it as long as I have the muse. And fear not! My muse is - wait a minute. Where did that go?

Kidding. xD.

Uh, what else? Oh, yeah. My Beta has told me that she is picking up a slight slash vibe from this chapter. While I don't mind slash (diehard slash fangirl, right here), the relationship between Snake and Alex is strictly guardian/ward, bigbro/littlebro, father/son, platonic... etc. But feel free to read it as slash, if you can see it. :).

Anyway, enough from me. Onwards!

* * *

**Never Back Down**

Chapter Three

* * *

Alex trailed after his guardian, dragging his feet as though he was walking through a pool of honey. This wasn't the first time Snake had gotten him to participate in some mundane activity. Yesterday he'd found himself puzzling over the importance of separating whites from blacks while doing the laundry, even though he hadn't agreed to do it when Snake had asked. Hell, Alex hadn't even acknowledged the man's presence when he'd come in.

Yet, there he was. Stuffing clothes into a washing machine that clearly belonged in the nearest rubbish tip.

Snake, well, he had this openness about him that Alex couldn't ignore. Like Alex could approach him with absolutely anything and he would just accept it, regardless of what it was. Alex was pretty sure that if he walked up to the man and said; "Hey, so look. I sort of smashed your TV, broke your coffee table, pissed on your bed and set your house on fire." Snake's response would be, "It's alright, mate. I know you're going through a rough patch."

Then he'd probably top it off by pulling Alex in for a reassuring hug and a pat on the back.

It was almost like the man was _incapable_ of expressing anger, especially if it was directed at Alex. Of course Snake felt it. Alex had seen the telltale signs of it on his face; narrowed eyes, downturned lips, a furrowed brow. But whenever he addressed Alex, it was never with anger.

And it was bloody _infuriating_.

No matter how _hard_ Alex tried, he couldn't bring himself to hate the soldier. Sure, Snake had an annoying habit of being anywhere that Alex happened to be at that particular time. But it was never over-bearing or off-putting. More like he was just a part of the scenery. And yeah, at times it seemed that Snake's sole purpose in life was to just _chatter_ at him. It was always about innocent things; the weather, the colour of the walls. The man talked in a way that never required Alex to reciprocate, but gave him the chance if he wanted to.

That was what made him so likeable. Snake never demanded, or intruded, unless it was truly necessary. Alex saw his constant presence as more of a reminder. A reminder that Snake was there, ready to offer whatever Alex needed. Whenever, or if ever, he needed it.

Alex leant against the counter in the kitchen, watching as Snake rifled through the contents of his fridge with some difficulty. The peeler Snake had offered him the exclusive use of coiling around his fingers with practised ease. In practise, though, Alex used a knife.

"How the hell did I get this in here?" Snake muttered, sounding more incredulous than annoyed.

"With a lot of shoving and swearing," Alex replied, tone flat. He berated himself a second later when Snake craned his neck to look at him, and immediately focused on the peeler.

Without a word, Snake turned back.

As kind as the man was, Alex didn't want him knowing the extent of his skills. Now it was common knowledge that Alex knew how to handle a blade, at least relatively well.

To counter his small slipup, Alex moved off the counter as Snake approached. He circled around to the other side, putting a barrier between them. Alex didn't have any qualms about Snake being close, but this gave the illusion that he did. This would keep the soldier guessing, unsure of where he stood with Alex. Or that was what Alex hoped would happen.

Again, Snake seemingly ignored him.

A second later, Alex flinched as the man flung a pair of carrots. He caught them both, grappling with one as it threatened to slide out of his grip. He put the other down on the counter and started peeling; brown eyes peering innocuously out from under blonde bangs.

Had throwing the carrots at him been a ploy to test his reflexes?

If it was, Snake didn't give any indication.

Then, the phone rang.

Snake moved to answer it out of habit, momentarily forgetting Alex. Then he stopped, his eyes flicking to the same blade Alex's had the second Snake turned his back. Alex instantly tore his gaze away, knowing exactly where Snake would look to next. He wasn't disappointed. The man's careful, calculating stare arrived at him, trying to see something.

Alex didn't know if he found what he was looking for, but a moment later, Snake left.

He was giving Alex the benefit of the doubt.

Mistake.

* * *

Alex was in a dark place, where the sun didn't shine and the happiness had been sucked out like a vacuum. Where each and every mistake Alex had made was on display, repeating over and over inside his head. Showing him with infinite detail exactly where he'd gone wrong, and the price others had paid for it.

But even in the dark place, Alex knew better than to allow himself weakness. Not that it was easy. There was so much to forget - so much to battle against. So many times that he hadn't been careful enough, that he'd slipped up and somebody else had paid for it. There were _so many_ and they crowded him, an endless supply of memories –

_Blood trickled down the woman's face, seeping out of her hairline, dripping from her nose. Her eyes were still wide in fear, her mouth open in what could have been either a wordless scream of terror, or a desperate plea for mercy. When Alex rolled her over, some part of him wanting to just __know_, _he discovered the back of her head brutally caved in._

_Blunt force trauma had killed his informant. _

"_Awex," his little companion tugged on the hem of his jeans, her doe-like eyes looking up at him questioningly. "They swaid Mommy won't stop sweeping 'cause of tch'you."_

_Alex stared down at the small girl. _

"_Why did tch'you make it so Mommy won't stop sweeping?"_

- Some weren't even real, his psychiatrist said. They were just nightmares that he had turned into reality. Alex had believed her in the beginning, but then they became too tangible, too real for them to be fake. He stopped trying to separate them. Stopped trying because it was easier to lump them together and deal with them that way. Easier meant Alex could be more efficient, and Alex needed to be more efficient to stop the dark place growing.

He cut.

It started as punishment: for each death, for each bit of pain inflicted on somebody else because of him. But there wasn't enough space for Alex to punish himself properly. He tried, though. He cut _everywhere_. Even sucking on a razorblade when he'd run out of skin to work with. It wasn't enough. Jack had unknowingly thwarted his attempt at swallowing pins to start on his insides. In the end, Alex had to look at it differently. Because punishing wasn't working and death was too kind – he had to find another angle.

He felt guilt for what he turned to next. It was necessary, though. He had cut so much that it was getting harder to hide. Jack became curious about the long-sleeved shirts and turtleneck sweaters. They had never been his style before. Avoiding Jack that week had almost cost him her life. A hit and run that couldn't have been chance. The street it happened on was one-way, the car speeding from the wrong direction and seemingly forgetting to brake. It was while he was sitting at her bedside that he made the decision – he needed to put the lives of the living above those of the dead.

He toned it down – stopped cutting for punishment. But when he wasn't atoning for his mistakes, the memories returned. He would stand in front of the mirror, the figures of post-death victims whispering their accusations in his ear. It was terrible – the pain. Physical pain didn't hold a light to emotional pain, the latter lingering for years after the other had faded. But physical pain did hold a person's attention for the short period it lasted. So Alex decided to use it for a different purpose – to distract.

This way meant he only needed to do it occasionally. Every now and again, just to lessen the memories – to make them more manageable. He kept the cutting isolated to a specific part of his body so it was easier to cover up, returning to that spot when the last wounds had healed into scars. The drawback was that his relationship with self-harming became like that of an addict and their drug of choice. The longer Alex left it – the more he needed to do.

It was just his luck that when Snake decided to place his trust in him, Alex was coming down off a high. Snake's trust had made him hesitate, but that was all. Because cutting came first. It _always_ came first. This time, though, the guilt came after.

When Snake looked at him like that; equal parts disappointed and angry, Alex couldn't stand it. Because that expression hadn't been directed at Alex, it never was. Snake was disappointed and angry with himself, and to cause somebody else emotional pain? After Alex was experiencing so much of it himself? That was one of the most unforgiveable things Alex could do.

He ran.

* * *

The door yielded under Snake's forceful kick, swinging open with a loud _bang_.

Snake was scared.

It was not often that fear coursed through the SAS soldier's veins, elevating his heart rate and blowing his pupils. Not often that his usually calm and rational mind was so scrambled that each thought repeated over and over, splintering and meshing together and leaving him an incoherent mess.

'_Oh God, Oh God, Cub – dead, he's dead, he's fucking dea- get to the win – oh God, Oh God-'_

With a job that left death hanging over his head like an anvil on a fraying rope, Snake had become desensitised to fear. These days more than half his life was spent working, and the work he did was so dangerous and sensitive that is was almost always documented as 'classified', even to him. He'd had his fair share of gunfights, and been knocked on his arse by more than one bullet. There was one time when a well-thrown frag put him in hospital with fractured bones and third degree burns. Another time and an experienced insurgent had caught him unawares and nearly garrotted him, the wire biting centimetres into his flesh before Wolf noticed and promptly snapped the bastard's neck.

For Snake, fear was an afterthought, if not nothing at all.

But this was different.

Cub was at the window all right, his flexible body already halfway out of it. He had one leg swung over the windowsill, balancing on the almost non-existent ledge outside. The rest of him was following, his upper body twisting out next. The other leg tensed, ready to go.

But he stopped. His dark brown eyes stared out at Snake through blonde bangs, seeing something in the man that made him pause.

"C-come away from the window, Cub." Snake managed to choke out, waiting for a couple of seconds before moving forward. As much as he wanted the kid to climb back into the room himself, he couldn't trust him to do that. Cub had crossed his tolerance threshold. There was no coming back from a fall that big, no walking away from it. All Cub had to do was slip, miscalculate, fall, _let go_ and there would be a flattened mural of his teenaged ward on the street.

Snake wasn't going to take chances. Not this time.

He started slow. One step. Two steps. Three, four. His hands were out in front of him, placating, as he closed in. Cub watched him advance; his face contorting into more expressions than Snake had seen in the entire time the kid had been living with him. An inner conflict was going on, that was for sure, and Snake tensed like a coiled spring as Cub's face suddenly blanked into nothingness. It was all the warning he got.

Luckily, it was all Snake needed.

Cub very nearly vanished out the window before Snake's hands were fisting in the back of his grey cotton hoodie, forcefully dragging him back into the safety of the flat. That wasn't to say it went smoothly – the second Snake grabbed him, Cub exploded in a flurry of uncoordinated limbs that caused his unstable footing to slip. For one horrible moment that almost saw the soldier's heart explode out of his chest in a cloud of blood and raining gore, Cub was suspended six stories above ground level with Snake the only thing holding him there.

Then, Snake pulled him inside.

As the kid's feet slid through the window, Cub kicked off the windowsill with surprising force. The sudden momentum caught Snake off-guard and he toppled to the ground on his back. Cub landed on top of him, viciously driving an elbow into Snake's ribs.

The sudden pain made Snake let go of the kid, allowing Cub to climb off of him and find his legs. He wasn't on them for long, the soldier snaking an arm out to grip the kid's ankle and pull his feet from under him. Cub caught himself before he crashed into the floor, instantly rolling over. He launched himself at Snake, delivering a debilitating knee to the groin and a nasty right hook to the man's jaw.

"Fuck," Snake grunted as the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. The blow seemed to animate him. Catching the next swing that Cub was aiming at his nose, Snake clasped the skinny wrist and wrenched, sending Cub on a direct collision course with the soldier's chest. The moment he hit, Snake caught him in a crushing bear hug that pinned the kid's arms to his sides. He tucked the kid's head underneath his chin so Cub couldn't head-butt him, and then settled down to wait for the kid to run out of steam.

No matter what Cub did, Snake kept his arms locked around Cub's decidedly smaller, and frailer, body. Eventually, exhaustion brought the kid's weakening struggles to a halt, his frantic panting evening out to steady, deep breaths and his heart quit fluttering like that of a caged bird. By rights, Snake should have let go the moment Cub went limp with defeat and unwilling compliance. But the man just couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was the shock. He was having a hard time getting passed the, _'holy shit, my ward just attempted to climb out of a window and slide down six stories on a drainpipe,' _and progressing to the, _'thank dear God, I've got him. Now I'm going to kill him.' _Understandably, all other thoughts took a backseat in his mind and watched theatre while Snake got his shit together.

"Snake…" Cub rasped eventually, surprising the man out of his stupor. "You're hurting me…"

Snake relaxed his hold – slightly. If he had really put his mind to it, he might have been able to coax himself to let go. As it was, Cub was just going to have to deal with being his teddy bear for a little longer. He needed to sort himself out, and then start on sorting Cub out – and while that appeared to be a pretty simple two-step plan, Snake had absolutely no idea where to begin. So they were both going to sit there, because Snake couldn't trust Cub and what Cub wanted wasn't particularly important right then. That, and having the kid locked away safely in his grip was the only thing keeping Snake on the calm side of the border.

"Snake?" Cub had twisted to look at him, face wary. "Are you going to let me go?"

"No."

And that was that.

* * *

"We're going to talk about this."

Six words that Alex had come to hate with every fibre of his being. Realistically, everything had been fine at Snake's until the man had tried to push an issue. Now his guardian wanted to blow the topic wide open and Alex wanted to do anything but.

"There's nothing to talk about," Alex asserted from the chair he'd been shoved into. He scanned his surroundings again, not bothering to hide the fact that he was searching for a means of escape. There wasn't one, though. Snake had locked them in Alex's room; a place with one window that opened out into nothing but air and a door blocked by Snake's bulky frame. "I just wasn't hungry."

"That's nice," the soldier said, leaning heavily against the wooden doorframe and absently rubbing at the bruise on his ribs. "Here's the deal, kid. We're going to sort this issue out. We could just as easily talk about what happened earlier; with the cutting and the window, it's your choice. But we're going to talk - _we are_," he stressed when Alex snorted derisively. "Or I'm calling Shelley. Make a decision – and you can glare all you like, it won't change anything. Not this time."

Shelley, Shelley Christie. If Alex had to choose between Shelley and Wolf, he would pick Wolf every time. The woman was his psychiatrist: short and frumpy with a voice so sugary it made his teeth ache. She was on MI6's payroll, which meant that Alex had problems when it suited MI6 – when they needed him, he always seemed to have a clean bill of health.

"I don't want to talk about it." He crossed his arms and propped his legs up on the bed, blatantly ignoring the piercing look Snake was giving him.

There were footsteps. Snake swept Alex's feet off the bed and sat in their place, letting his hands dangle uselessly between his knees. "C'mon, mate. You know I want to call her even less than you do. But you're not leaving me many options here. If you won't eat, you'll end up in hospital. MI6 will jump on anything that makes me look like an unfit guardian. Don't screw up the chance Jack and Ben made for you. MI6 are off our back now, but don't think they're out of the picture. They're just biding their time."

A beat of silence passed. Snake pressed on.

"Let me help you, Cu-… _Alex_."

His name. _Don't say his name_. Cub was easy. He was somebody else entirely. Little boy lost in a place he didn't belong. Nobody had wanted Cub. That was good.

_Everybody_ wanted Alex.

"_They're just biding their time."_

"You think…" He couldn't look at Snake, couldn't meet his gaze. He looked in the mirror instead, feeling slightly relaxed when Yassen looked back. Glassy eyes and grey skin with a bullet wound leeching blood - the Russian assassin had yet to blame Alex for anything. "You think they'll… take me away?"

"Yes."

That was unfathomable. No Jack or Snake. Just MI6. And what would they do without any means of blackmail? It took a lot to scare Alex these days, but the creativity of the human psyche when it wanted something was enough to fill him with fear. "I… you can't let them."

"Talk to me, Cub," Snake noted the way Alex's shoulders went lax in relief as the codename slipped off his tongue. "I can stop them from taking you if you let me in."

He couldn't. He really, really couldn't. Could he? He'd tried telling Jack. She hadn't been able to understand. Ben – well. They just weren't that close. But Snake. What was Snake to him?

Snake was further than Ben, but closer than Jack.

That didn't even make any sense. Try again, brain.

To his credit, Snake waited patiently for Alex to try and wrap his mind around it all.

That was the tipping of the iceberg. Alex wasn't going to let Snake in. But he'd crack a window and let the man take a quick peek.

Just like Jack.

_Alex was in the kitchen when they called. The phone rang in the background, the noise dulled slightly by the vehement hiss of the heated frying pan. With a sigh, he pulled the pan from the heat as to not burn the food. It was Jack's favourite, Cantonese stir fry._

_He ambled over to answer the phone, swatting at the smoky air around him with a tea towel. He reminded himself to open a window next time, surprised that the smoke alarm hadn't gone off yet. Maybe the batteries had expired. He should probably get that checked._

"_Lo'," he said into the phone distractedly, still eyeing the supposedly dead smoke alarm._

'_Alex Rider?'_

"_Speaking," Alex answered._

'_This is a message, for those you work for. Tell them they sent a sheep in a wolf's clothing – a boy in a man's stead. That boy made a mistake, and now the innocent will pay for it.' _

_Alex was met with the dial tone._

_Three days later, the body of Eric Morrow surfaced. He was five years old, taken while playing in his backyard under the careful watch of the family dog. To this day, MI6 never told Alex how he died. But that it was his name, which they'd carved into Eric's neck._

Snake blinked. "I don't understand…"

Alex breathed out a soft sigh. _Just like Ja-_

"You won't eat stir fry because of what happened to Eric?"

Huh. It was Alex's turn to blink in confusion. _Not at all like Jack, apparently._ "Yeah…"

Snake rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, looking contemplative. "But that's not just it, is it? You won't eat _anything_ I make. Hell, not even cereal-"

"A hand."

"What, Cub?"

"There was a hand…" The kid sounded so distant, his expression blank and clearly faraway – almost like he'd mentally checked out of the situation. Probably remembering something, Snake decided, pushing himself off the bed to give Alex a gentle shake when he flinched. It didn't appear to be a good memory, either.

There was no outward response.

"Cub?" Snake tried again, hunkering down in front of him. Still nothing. "You in there?" He questioned, waving a hand in the kid's face. Alex came out of his trance with a jerk, frowning down at Snake in mild annoyance.

"What?" Alex snapped, his pupils a little too big to completely sell Snake on his current state of mind.

"Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," Alex said as though Snake was dumb. "I'm still here. I haven't moved."

"You know what I meant."

"I don't."

"You do."

"That's childish."

"Says the child."

Alex scowled now, glowering into the mess that was Snake's hair. It had grown out of its military buzz cut, spiking out all over the place in a way that reminded him of Tom. A few more weeks and it wouldn't be as wild, but that was just a guess an-

"You said 'there was a hand', Cub." Snake said finally, interrupting Alex's mundane train of thought. It was a defence mechanism. Focus on something that didn't matter to avoid something you didn't want to confront. "What did you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not."

"I'll call Shell-"

"In the cereal."

Christ. Snake wanted to find a wall and introduce his head to it repeatedly. Talking to Cub right now was like talking to Ben after that time in Beirut – _oh_.

Well, shit.

"What?" Snake asked, though this time it was kinder and understanding. He had a fair idea where this was going and there was a quiet thought in the back of his mind, one that mocked and whispered and said that he hadn't really wanted to know at all. Snake mentally shrugged at that. It didn't matter if he didn't want to know. He was going to find out, and then he was going to fix it.

"There was a hand in the cereal…" Alex elaborated after a moment. "Don't know how it got there… Black and rotting… Jack screamed…"

That… turned his stomach a bit. Snake didn't say anything for a time, his hand absently patting Alex's leg in what was meant to be comfort. It was a lot to process, but he didn't have time to regroup and sort himself out. He wasn't the priority here. Cub was.

"I-" Snake began, but paused when Alex pried his hand off his leg. There was a moment where Cub traced each callous and blemish on Snake's palm and Snake watched the fascination on the kid's face with growing unease. "I- I don't… Are you still with me, Cub?"

_One finger, two finger, three finger, four. Five finger…_

"Yes." Alex responded in a monotone, dropping Snake's hand and reaching for the other. Snake met him halfway.

_Six finger, seven finger, eight finger, more. Nine finger…_

"You're not not-eating on purpose," Snake announced, rumbling baritone bordering on a croon. Alex was acting strange, weird – no. It was more childlike, vulnerable, even. Snake wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but he didn't want to drive it back beneath Alex's hardened exterior just yet. He didn't particularly like it, but it was more – informative.

"Thumbs aren't fingers," Alex told him. "You only have eight fingers. Not nine. Nine is wrong. Two are thumbs."

Snake knew what this was. It wouldn't work. "Food makes you remember things, doesn't it, Cub? Bad things."

Alex hummed softly, still toying with Snake's hand. He twisted it this way and that, rotated the man's wrist and bent the fingers as far as they would go. In the end, though, he simply held onto it, gripped it like a kid would their mother's at the mall.

Little boy lost, Snake thought.

"I don't want to remember."

* * *

Review? And if there is a plot bunny or pairing for AR that somebody would like to read but doesn't want to write, I don't mind doing it! I need to start writing more and it is actually easier for me if it's for someone else, lol. So, uh, just putting that one out there. :).

**Thanks to everyone who has read so far. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectation. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I'll try and be quick here, x). I'm not really one hundred percent happy with this chapter, but I've sat here for a fair while now trying to adjust and nitpick it into something better but it just isn't working, so it would be really helpful if people could offer me some criticism. Positive feedback is very welcome too, of course. I had to beta this chapter myself, so any and all mistakes fall on my shoulders. I hope everybody can find something in this chapter that they like, and I will try and update soon. x)

**Warnings: **Swearing, dark themes, depression.

* * *

Never Back Down  
Chapter Four

* * *

Snake looked thoughtful.

He scanned the inside of his fridge, tongue clicking absently as he tried to decide what to choose. In the end, his gaze settled on an innocuous packet of prepackaged lettuce - it was tasteless. It didn't smell too much. That being said, it didn't have the high calorie count that Cub desperately needed.

Still, they had to start somewhere.

"Cub," the kid was sitting on the counter beside the fridge, exactly where Snake had left him. He waited for Cub to focus on him before holding the product out for inspection. "What about this?"

_- his arms swept out in front of him as he ran. It was almost like he was swimming, knocking aside plants that were twice his size to make a path. Behind him the older boy wheezed, trying his hardest to keep up with Alex. _

_Twigs snapped underfoot and suddenly they could breathe, the stifling confines of the sugarcane plantation rapidly disappearing behind them. In the distance there were lights, the bright canopy of stars overhead illuminating a cloud of smoke as it rose from someone's chimney. Without a second thought, both boys angled towards it, legs and arms pumping franticly as they tried to close the gap._

_Alex shot over the stone wall first, landing on the other side in a low crouch. The boy thumped down beside him a moment later with markedly less grace. _

"_Have we lost them?" _

"_I don't know."_

"_Where are we?"_

"_It looks like a veggie patch…"_

_The boy grunted, and then gurgled wetly. Alex turned._

_No._

_Oh God, no._

_The damage was done before Alex could react. Scared blue eyes stared out at him, moonlight glinting off the knife protruding from the boy's neck. He launched forward as the boy started clawing at his throat, knowing it was too late but still needing to __**help.**__ One step away and something slammed into him, driving him down against the damp earth and keeping him there._

_The boy screamed a loud, blood-filled scream as his assailant twisted the knife._

_Alex couldn't look._

_A hand gripped his chin and jerked his head up, forcing him to watch as they disemboweled his struggling friend. The boy didn't stop howling, didn't stop moving until they tore the skin right off his - _

"Just breathe, mate. Breathe. That's it." Snake pulled his arm back from where he'd hooked it underneath Cub's knees, letting his other arm rest heavily about the kid's shoulders. The second he'd sensed the panic attack, the soldier had swept Cub off the counter and placed him on the floor. Covering the kid's mouth, Snake pressed his thumb against Cub's left nostril. It was a basic home cure for hyperventilating – lessening the intake of oxygen and therefore raising the level of carbon dioxide in the blood. "You're all right. Just focus on breathing – I know it's hard, but this will work. Trust me."

It did.

Snake offered a reassuring smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes, letting Cub shrug him off when he was ready. "I take it lettuce isn't going to work, then? Do you want to talk about it?"

Cub silently found his feet. Using the counter and Snake's forearm to steady himself, he shot the man a black look. 'Oh, _yeah_,' he seemed to be saying. 'I want to relive that _again _by talking about it.'

Then Cub spotted the packet Snake had thrown away in his haste to get to him, going as green as the leaves trapped inside the clear plastic. Snake helped steer the kid around to face the other direction before picking it up and tossing it into the bin. "This wasn't happening before, Cub. What cha-"

"You _made_ me remember."

Cub was shaking. Little tremors running through him that made it seem like he was vibrating.

"How did I do that?" Snake asked, noting the way the kid was curling in on himself, like an animal trying to protect an injury. He hung back a little way, not wanting to incite Cub's raw emotions any further.

"You made me talk," Cub spat accusingly. "You made me tell you. You brought it to the surface. _You let it come out_."

"I didn't make you do anything," Snake said sternly. "You told me on your own free wil-"

"You threatened to take me to that _bitch-_"

"Be respectful," Snake reprimanded calmly, not reacting in the slightest as Cub rounded on him, expression twisted in a snarl.

"- so I _had_ to talk. You _know_ who she works for. Whose side are you on? You said you didn't want me going back to them but you still threatened to take me to her, you –"

"Yours."

"- bloody prick -"

"I'm on your side, Cub."

"- never should have fucking listened to you -"

"Cub -"

"– never should have trusted - "

"Cub!"

"– worse than, than _Blunt_ –"

Snake caught the raving boy in a headlock. "I said _listen to me_!" He growled at the kid, for the first time letting something harsher bleed into his tone. "I didn't _make_ you talk. I didn't _make_ you tell me the _truth_, did I? You could have lied. You work in intelligence, that's what you do. But you didn't – because you _wanted_ to tell me, Cub. You _wanted_ me to know."

Cub was still. Unnaturally so.

"But it isn't going to be a quick fix. Telling me what you did, that was good – really good. But there is a lot more where it came from and we've got a long way to go." He loosened his grip. Cub could slide on out now – if he wanted. The kid didn't move. "I'm going to help you, I am. You can hold me to that. But we have to sort out each issue you have. Sort them until there isn't any left to sort. Are you all right with that?"

No answer.

"Cub?"

The kid pulled away from him, staring at a particular spot on the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Snake sat down in a chair with a sigh, running on emotional reserves that he hadn't tapped in years. In the past there had always been someone looking out for him – he'd never really done it for somebody else. It was hard – bloody hard. He was going to buy Wolf a round of drinks the next time they went out pub crawling. And pay for the taxi after, too.

"Why is it so bad today, Cub?" Snake rubbed his temples, thinking that maybe if he rubbed hard enough, he could make his troubles go away. "Let's be realistic here. I've put food in front of you before. Christ, you made dinner for us both not two hours ago. What sparked the memories? Earlier, with Eric – would you say it was… the smell?"

Cub nodded. It was such a slight movement that it was almost imperceptible, but Snake caught it.

"All right," Snake accepted easily. "But after – after the window… with the hand… That was different, wasn't it? I only had to mention something for you to remember, then. And right now, with the panic attack – that was different again. It was a visual sign that set you off. Do you know what that means, Cub?"

Cub inclined his head in Snake's direction; something the man saw as the physical equivalent of asking 'what?'

"Now that I've had time to think about it, I can pretty much say for certain that your trigger isn't food, Cub. For one, a trigger is generally one factor – there is one thing about it that makes you react. In the instance of food, that specific aspect would be something like taste, touch, smell or sight. Not all of them, just one. And you happen to have three. Secondly, food is a large category – there are too many different varieties for you to have made negative connections with everything. I think that you've made food – or at least believe that food is – your trigger inside your head, which is why it features so strongly in your episodes."

Cub was openly staring at him now, making direct eye contact - a sign that Cub was regarding him as an equal, or at least somebody worth listening to.

"I didn't realise you were a psychiatrist," Cub griped, sarcastic but without any real bite. "Well, go on. What is my _trigger_?"

"Before I left to answer the phone, when we were handling the food – you were fine." Snake paused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. "Well, not fine. But better than now, if you will."

"What of it?" The kid snapped, clearly not appreciating the assumption about his general state of being.

"You had the memory after you cut." Snake answered as though he was stating a fact – tone leaving no room for argument. "That's your trigger Cub. Cutting is your trigger."

"No," Cub was adamant, so resolute in his denial that Snake's explanation didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Think about it."

"I don't need to. You're wrong."

"Cub," Snake said gently. "What does an animal do when it's injured?"

An uncaring shrug and Cub was suddenly inspecting his nails, no longer interested in what Snake had to say.

"They run, Cub – they hide. And when they're backed into a corner, they fight. Sound familiar?"

"So, what? You're saying I'm an animal now?" Cub asked flatly, though there was something in his tone. Hurt, hidden beneath layers of anger and sarcasm, but it was there, the slight lowering of his voice telling Snake as much.

"No," Snake corrected quickly, hands flicking up in a placating motion. "I'm saying that pain affects us in certain ways. It's how our bodies tell us that something's wrong, and usually pain is followed or preceded by fear. The most basic, instinctive reaction to that is fight or flight – and while a lot of people can control that, you can't, Cub."

There was silence. Snake pressed on.

"I haven't read your files. I don't know what they've made you do. But my guess is that you've been hurt too many times by too many bad people. Pain isn't just physical for you anymore. That's why you react so strongly to it. And that's okay, Cub… Are you listening to me?"

Cradling his wounded wrist against his chest, Cub had backed up into the table, his eyes downcast, body rigid. Snake opened his mouth to ask again, but let it snap shut as Cub bobbed his head once.

"Too many bad people…" There was a derisive snort, and Cub looked up, gaze overbright with barely repressed emotion. "And nobody helped me. Not a single _fucking_ one of you…"

Snake sighed. "I know -"

"No you don't," Cub interrupted sharply, pushing off from the table and taking a few threatening steps forward. "You don't _know_ what it's like. You have K-Unit – Wolf, Eagle, Fox... You have them to watch your back, and who do I have?" He laughed harshly. "No one – I get _no one_, Snake, and stop looking at me like that, because it's true. Do you know what it's like? Waiting for back-up that _never_ comes?"

A pause;

"You don't. You don't have a bloody clue. I sit there, and I wait, because most times I don't have a choice and they laugh at the kid who's stupid enough to believe that somebody out there thinks he's worth saving."

Cub sniffed, sounding too snotty for his own liking, and tried to wipe his nose on his sleeve. Tried to, because suddenly there was a hand on his head, warm and heavy and pulling his forehead in to rest on Snake's jacket.

"That isn't going to happen again." Snake rumbled, strong and sure and solid in Cub's ear, placing his other hand on top of his first and resting his chin on it. The added weight drove the kid into him harder, but neither was complaining. "I'm going to try my hardest to not let that happen again, Cub."

Snake wasn't sure if he could make good on his words. Cub was a mess – a huge, tangled web of confusion and pain and hurtful experiences. Of bad people, bad people pretending to be good and good people who couldn't help him because the bad people were dictating his world. It was all so completely screwed up, but now wasn't the time to worry about it. He could do that later – could do it later because the biggest adversary in Cub's life right now was Cub, and Cub was crumbling against his chest.

He was trembling again; sporadic, juddery shivers that were getting more violent with each second that passed. Cub was crying, silent tears dribbling down his face and into the rough fabric of Snake's clothes. Snake said nothing, feeling the wet, listening to the soft sniffles and knowing that the best thing he could do was be there. Cub was a tall kid, but his entirely too-thin frame made him seem so much smaller, so much more vulnerable. Snake pulled back and looked down into the mussed, blonde hair of his charge, deciding right there and then that no matter what, he wasn't letting go.

* * *

Pushing the popper-top closed with his thumb, Snake picked up the black, plastic drink bottle he usually brought with him to the gym. He gave it a shake, hearing the concoction inside slosh about as it mixed together, thickening into what he wanted. Satisfied, he re-popped the top and handed it to Cub.

Cub accepted it quietly.

Collecting the various cups, measuring spoons and bowls on the bench, the soldier started to fill the sink. Squirting apple-scented washing liquid into the lukewarm water, he wandered off to clear up the rubbish and put away the used ingredients before returning to switch off the tap.

"What's in it?" Hesitant, soft. Snake didn't glance back to look at Cub, instead squeezing the moisture out of his sponge with a clenched fist.

"I'm not telling you," was all he said, rubbing a plate clean and placing it in the washing-up rack. Picking up a cup, he caught the faint smell of coffee and thought it was a good idea, briefly stepping away from the sink to put the kettle on. "Don't open it, either. Don't even think about it. Just drink."

Cub shifted, squinting into the tiny opening of the bottle and seeing nothing but black. His fingers ghosted over the lid, tightening as if they were about to unscrew it, before dropping back to his side. He stared at it for a moment longer, contemplating, searching, and then, very, very slowly, he raised it to his lips.

It was not something he'd tasted before – too bland, with a texture that reminded him of uncooked batter. He sucked any residue off the top so he wouldn't be able to look at it before pulling it from his mouth.

"Well?"

Snake was elbow deep in frothy water, watching him out of the corner of his eye. Cub huffed an irate sigh, flicking his gaze away to land on the denim jacket slung over the back of a chair. He colored slightly as he caught sight of the wet patch that had yet to dry, feeling irrevocably embarrassed. Only Jack had ever seen him like that, and breaking down in front of a woman was somehow easier to forgive and forget than breaking down in front of, well – _Snake_.

Cub snapped his gaze back to the man in question, found the solder fully facing him and suddenly remembered why he hadn't wanted to look over there in the first place.

"I'll live," he muttered, shoving the drink back into his mouth in order to focus on something other than his wounded pride.

Snake fought a smile. He turned back to the task at hand, glancing out the window every now and again as he scrubbed. Finishing up, he pulled the plug and grabbed a mug to start making his coffee. He was halfway through opening the tin with his pre-ground, instant coffee mix when he caught sight of the car.

He frowned.

"Cub," he said calmly, setting the tin down on the counter. "Finish making this for me, would you? I have black, two sugars."

He paused in the doorway. "And don't touch the knives. Shelley's due to call soon, and if you pull another stunt, I won't watch what I say. Understood?"

* * *

Eagle never lied about his lineage.

He was an honest bloke, and if someone asked, he had no problem telling them where he came from or who his parents were. Enemy insurgents and criminals excluded, of course. Most people resented him for it, for having landed on a bed of gold from the moment he popped out into the world. Others loved him for the same reason, thinking that maybe if they got close enough, he would share his good fortune with them.

Very few didn't give two shits about him, and treated him like a regular guy. Those were the people Eagle respected and cherished the most. But he would never tell them that.

Snake had been riding him hard about returning an Xbox game; Modern Warfare 2. The finicky bastard had insisted that he wanted the copy Eagle had left his flat with, not a brand-spanking-new store-bought copy because Eagle may have, accidently, lost it. Which begged the question; what was wrong with this guy? Eagle would have happily doled out the cash to avoid the three hours he'd spent sorting through crap to find it. But Snake had said that because other people didn't have the luxury of throwing money at their mistakes to fix them, Eagle could get off his arse and find the game himself.

So Eagle had, after several threats of Snake disowning him and many pointless hours of moaning and griping about it. Snake's coveted game was currently riding shotgun, along with something Snake would like marginally less. A bag with enough clothes to last a couple of days, because Eagle may have applied Snake's advice to an area where money did happen to fix everything, and now he needed a place to stay while his lady friend calmed down. Scowling, he pulled into the parking lot of Snake's apartment building.

Throwing a rather baleful glare at his passenger, because it was indirectly to blame for this entire situation, Eagle didn't notice the speed bump until he rolled over it three times faster than he should have. He flew forward, only to meet the unyielding force of his seatbelt.

A little bit shocked, Eagle thumped back into his seat and promptly slowed his car down. His heart barely had time to recover before it started jack hammering again as his mobile buzzed to life on the dashboard.

'_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Should of paid attention, should have read those signs.'_

Eagle scowled at the irony of it all, and then flipped his phone open.

"Lo'."

'Hey, it's me.' There was a pause on the other end of the line. 'Snake.'

Eagle snorted. "Yeah, I know. Caller ID and all, plus your accent is a dead giveaway. Look, I just pulled into your parking lot. Can't this wait a minute?"

'No, I need a favour.'

With an audible sigh, Eagle demanded: "What is it?"

'Run down to the store and get me some protein powder, uh,' Eagle waited patiently for his comrade to continue, imagining the way Snake was probably pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember. It was amusing. 'The weight gain version. Get… get a couple of big tubs of it, would you? I'll pay you for it later.'

"A couple of _tubs_?" He repeated incredulously, eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. Eagle could understand using weight gain supplements when they were on active duty – the SAS required intense physical activity and sometimes it was difficult for their bodies to maintain the harsh pace. But while they were on leave, living a brief snapshot of civilian life? It didn't make sense. "What are you planning to do? _Roll _everywhere?"

'Don't bitch at me.' Snake replied curtly, every bit deserving of the title 'Lieutenant'. The Scottish soldier was one rank below Wolf and several higher than Eagle – he would have already been leading his own squadron, if it wasn't for the history that clouded his name. 'Just do it.'

"Sorry," Eagle apologised, even though he was anything but. He idly turned the steering wheel, executing a slow U-turn in front of the signs that strictly forbade him to do so. "But seriously, mate. You want me to do your _grocery shopping_? I wasn't aware that I was in possession of a bloody _vagina_…"

'Yeah… About that… Wolf and I were going to tell you. We just never found the right time, what with you being such a delicate flower and all… We were afraid of being too rough, you know?'

Eagle sputtered wordlessly. "Y-y-"

'I know it's hard, but try not to shatter while you're getting my shit, all right? It's important."

"You prick."

But alas, there was nothing but the dial tone.

* * *

Crisis successfully averted for the time being, Snake returned to the kitchen. There was a steaming mug waiting for him on the counter, and Cub was still dutifully sipping the protein shake Snake had made him.

Collecting his coffee, the soldier settled against the counter with a groan, inhaling the strong scent before taking a drink.

"I spat in that."

"Huh?" Snake asked, poised to take another gulp from his flowery mug. He would admit that the intertwining tulips and daffodils were mildly emasculating, but the crockery had been a gift from his Ma.

"I spat in your coffee." Cub explained after a moment, quickly bringing the fond memories Snake was reliving to a screeching halt. Feeling slightly nauseous, he poured his coffee down the drain and placed his cup in the sink.

"… Information I could have used a drink ago."

"Sorry."

For once, Cub actually sounded contrite. Having something in his stomach must have lifted his mood.

That didn't stop Snake from slipping into disapproving parent mode, though. "If you were going to regret it, why did you do it in the first place? It's kind of counterproductive, don't you think?"

Cub shrugged nonchalantly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Snake exhaled loudly. What else had he been expecting? Of course it seemed like a good idea at the time - that was the main reason a lot of people did what they did. Leaning back against the bench, Snake glanced over at the seated teenager. "So what changed?"

"I felt bad…"

Well, Snake supposed, there was always that.

* * *

Shelley checked in an hour later.

Cub had drifted out of the room a while ago, settling down in the lounge to watch a late-night movie that had enough explosions and cheesy spy music for Snake to place as Mission Impossible without bothering to check. But as Snake moved to answer the out-dated chime in the hallway, the kid reappeared, expression alert.

"Do you mind?" The soldier asked, amused, as he reached for the phone. Cub cocked a challenging eyebrow in return.

"Not at all."

Snake shook his head, picking up and answering with his standard greeting. "Hello?"

Cub shuffled forward, listening to the disembodied voice bleeding out of the phone on their end.

"Yes, good evening to you too, Shelley. I-"

There was a bang on the door, startling Cub into the air and Snake out of his sentence. The voice sounded again, asking if something was wrong, and whoever it was outside continued to knock, albeit more enthusiastically this time around.

Snake pulled the phone from his ear, pressing the mouthpiece into his shoulder as he addressed Cub, tone full of authority; "Can you get that?"

Alex simply stared at him. And stared at him. And stared at him some more, expression flat lining when Snake simply stared back, refusing to back down. The heavy-handed pounding had given them a fair idea of who it was standing on the other side of the door. The slightly muffled shout of "Oi, Snake," that followed shortly after validating their suspicions. Somebody from K-Unit, and Alex knew that it wasn't Ben.

That left one of two options: Wolf or Eagle. At the present time, Alex was not really interested in dealing with either.

Snake clicked his fingers. Alex refocused on him instantly, watching as the man mouthed 'now, please,' at him with a meaningful jerk of his head. The teenage spy deliberated for a moment, weighing up his options before coming to a decision.

He flipped the soldier off.

There was silence. Free hand resting on his hip, Snake regarded his ward in a way that had Alex recoiling slightly, skin prickling with unease. Snake was different. He was defined more by the people he wasn't, rather than the person he was. At least that was how it worked in Alex's mind. Snake wasn't Jack, or Ben, or Wolf, or Blunt, or Jones – he was Snake. He could navigate through the mess that was Alex and make things mean things – he could make things matter.

In other words, he knew exactly how to reach him. And Alex was as scared by that as he was reassured.

"All right, Cub," Snake said amiably, letting the rude gesture slide off of him like oil on water. He offered the phone "I'll get it. But that means you will have to keep Shelley occupied while I'm go-"

Alex swatted Snake's hand away so hard that the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the confined hall – a red handprint blossoming across the man's pale skin. Without a word, Alex headed out to answer the door, dragging his feet as he went.

"Good man," Snake clapped him on the back as he passed by, and then returned to his conversation.

* * *

"Cub?" A voice said incredulously. There was a deep Irish accent – one that was much too familiar for his liking. Sure enough, a closer inspection of the subject revealed two very important things; a gangly body clad in masochistic leather, and red sunglasses that hid a pair of eyes blacker than pitch. "You look like shit. What's wrong with y-"

**BANG. **

Alex calmly shut the door in Eagle's face.

Back in the hallway, Snake glanced up just in time to see his rebellious co-inhabitant stalking back into the lounge room.

"Answer it yourself."

* * *

Snake looked at Eagle's duffel blankly.

Calmly relieving his friend of the plastic bag full of the goods he'd asked for, he set them against the wall. "No."

"C'mon, mate. It's only for a couple of days." Eagle crossed the threshold uninvited, blatantly ignoring the look on his teammate's face that clearly called bullshit. "You won't even know I'm here. Promise."

"What about Cub?" Snake asked flatly, and then growled as Eagle's duffel bag was pushed into his arms - like he was a bloody butler, or something. He pierced Eagle with an irate stare, violently throwing the bag back when the man's only response was to blink, completely and utterly clueless.

Barely managing to catch it in time, Eagle grunted as it came uncomfortably close to smacking him in the nose. "What about him?"

"I only have two bedrooms." And he wasn't about to throw Cub onto the couch, either. Eagle was too tall to fit on the two-person seat, and Snake would kick his friend out to sleep in the subway before he gave up his own bed. Scowling darkly, Snake closed the front door a little harder than necessary. Eagle was grinning at him, cheeks dimpling with roguish charm as the man correctly assumed he was allowed to stay.

"Don't worry about it," Eagle reassured in a very non-reassuring way. "Cub can bunk with - "

"Snake," a voice interrupted quickly from the lounge.

"-me," Eagle finished, swinging his head around in confusion. He stepped sideways and looked down the hall. Not seeing whoever had spoken, he turned back to Snake with a frown. "Was that Cub?"

"Aye," Snake agreed, listening for the footsteps that signalled the kid's retreat into a deeper part of the flat. There weren't any. It would take a long while for him to stop expecting a normal kid where there wasn't one.

"Where'd he go?" Eagle was peering out into the hall again, insatiably curious. Snake resisted the urge to bark at him to pull his head in, the image of a bullet grazing Eagle's skull still fresh in his memory. That time there wasn't any lasting damage – just an unhelpfully knocked out Eagle and enough blood to make the rest of them panic. "He hasn't done a runner, has he?"

"No," Snake pulled himself back to the present, making a mental note to discuss tactical insertion and team logistics with Wolf later. "He hasn't. Cub's just a mite shy of newcomers, is all."

Realisation dawned on the other man's features, along with indignation at the suggestion that he was a stranger. Eagle had been the first in the ICU after they got the call - the first to sit by their Cub, who was pasty and white and breathing off a ventilator. Ben was out of the country. Wolf's phone had died because he never turned it off. And Snake – well. He was being Snake. "He's hiding, then?"

"He isn't hiding." Snake said on the kid's behalf, following Eagle's initiative and leaning into the hallway before calling out: "What was your word for it again, Cub?"

"Contemplating," Cub supplied flatly, sounding like he was somewhere in the kitchen. Unease stirred in Snake's gut, but he promptly squashed it. The rational part of his brain telling him that Cub wouldn't dare do anything when there was another member of K-Unit in the house – it wasn't worth the trouble.

He hoped.

"That's right," Snake continued easily, raising his voice as he addressed Cub for a second time. "And what is it that you are contemplating again, Cub?"

"I'm _contemplating _the _situation_." Cub's voice drifted from what Snake guessed was the lounge room.

There was a brief moment of silence, broken by Eagle's bewildered; "What situation?"

Snake appeared unjustifiably amused. "You, mate."


End file.
